


Bleeding Hearts

by Lady_Akuma_Wolf



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Kidnapping, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-17 02:36:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Akuma_Wolf/pseuds/Lady_Akuma_Wolf
Summary: He stared down at the ten painted, bloody nails in his lap.What else had they done to her? Did they break her fingers had they hit her had they cut her what had they done to her?!He could still hear her hoarse screams behind him.She was refusing to answer the questions she knew, and couldn’t answer the ones she didn’t, and they didn’t believe her.They weren’t going to stop.He couldn’t take it any longer.“Stop!” he shouted, praying someone would hear him. “Stop hurting her! Leave her alone!” tears slipped out of his eyes. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, just leave her alone!”When a job goes sideways - what else is new? - Jack gets beaten and tortured for information on where what they just stole from the Chicago Russian Mafia is. Bad news is, he isn't the only member of their team who got caught.Rated M for torture and language.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was going to work on my Harry Potter fic, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I decided to work on it instead.
> 
> Trigger warnings: kidnapping and torture

Jack regained his consciousness slowly and painfully. He tried and failed to swallow a groan of pain as he tried to straighten his bent body, trying to ignore the shooting pain in his skull, not to mention his chest, arms, legs – Hell, _everything_ hurt. The hard, wooden chair he was sitting – no, slouching –  in made everything hurt even more.

How the Hell had he fallen asleep in a chair, bent over of all positions? And where the Hell was he? His memory was all fuzzy and jumbled.

When he attempted to rub his thumping head he got his answer – well, it would be more accurate to say when he _tried_ to rub his aching head.

His hands were tied to the arms of the chair with thick, rough, musty-smelling rope. The same rope appeared to be binding his legs to the legs of the chair as well as tied around his chest and the back of the chair. That explained why he had awoken in such an awkward position.

Swearing under his breath, Jack tugged his arms and legs, testing the strength of the rope. It held strong, despite the musty, rotten smell. So not the answer he had been hoping for.

His second plan – fall over and hopefully smash the chair into enough pieces that he could work his arms and legs free – was quickly shot down.

“Who in the Hell bolts a chair to the fucking floor?” he muttered, trying to look around and get his bearings and ignore the voice in the back of his head informing of just what kinds of people would bolt a chair to the floor, which just so happened to include the people they had been dealing with on their latest assignment.

The single florescent tubular lightbulb above his head – the other was burned out – did little to illuminate the cement floor and walls of the room he was in; he couldn’t even make out the far wall. It seemed to be the same age as the building he, Mac, Riley, and Cage had been in on their mission earlier that day – or maybe it was yesterday. He had no idea of how long he had been unconscious, and there were of course no windows in his cozy little room. Wouldn’t want to leave a way for a person tied to a bolted down chair to escape through, right?

At least with more time spent conscious, his memories of the past day plus were coming back to him. They had been after a biological weapon, one the Chicago Mafia Families – the Hargatavia Family – had been planning on auctioning off after using it a couple of times themselves. It had been designed by one of their top scientists back in Russia. It could be used to target a person via their DNA; you could take out a single person and do it either through ingestion or inhalation.

They had also found out that the Hargatavia Family had been using it to bring their competition to heel by using not on their rivals, but on their children, oldest first.

The youngest had only been seven years old.

He and Samantha Cage had taken out the muscle while Riley hacked into their Saferoom – she had already put all of the surveillance cameras on loops – for Mac to grab the canister, setting fire to what they were leaving behind – mainly money, but also building schematics, drugs, and what looked like a lot of expensive computers. Riley had growled a few choice words at Mac for not snagging at least one of them for her.

Then, of course, like the vast majority of their ops, things went sideways, upside down, backwards, and any other direction but good and home.

Cage and Mac had been cut off from him and Riley, shouting through the comms to keep going and meet up at the exfil point. They had kind of been expecting this – though been hoping it wouldn’t be needed – and had brought two getaway cars.

The last thing Jack could bring himself to remember was sending Riley out of the side door to the second car with his spare gun while he laid out cover fire at the five goons who had followed them with orders that if he didn’t come out within sixty seconds she was to meet up with Mac and Cage and _then_ come back for him, with backup. He had been so focused on the men with guns that he didn’t see the sixth man edging around the wooden boxes he was crouched behind and hit him in the side of his neck with a stun gun.

God, he hoped Riley and the others had gotten away.

Loud footsteps and heavily accented voices reached his ears from outside the metal door to his right. Metal and metal grated as a bolt on the outside of the door was drawn back, and the door swung inwards to admit three people; two were arms with AKs, and the third was a man dressed in a rich black suit, his green tie the only color on the three of them.

“Hey, what’s up dudes?” Jack quipped with a smirk. “Why don’t you three cut me loose right now, and maybe I won’t decide to kill you.”

The two guards didn’t react to his idle threat.

Mr. Suit, however, chuckled. “Ahh yes, the humorous Mister Jack Dalton. I’ve heard of you.” His voice with thick with a Russian accent. “You really shouldn’t be wasting your time with trying to be a funny man, Mr. Dalton.”

Jack cocked his head, smirk still in place. “Oh, yeah? Any why is that?”

“You and your little friends stole something which was very valuable to me and my family. I want it back.” The man frowned. “You will tell me where your people are, who you are, and how you knew about the bio-weapon in my possession.”

Jack raised a single finger. “One, I don’t know where my people are.” He raised another finger. “Two, you ain’t getting your bio-weapon back.” He raised a third. “And Three, I don’t know how we knew. Perhaps your security isn’t as tight as you think it is. Not to mention –”

_Smack!_

Goon Number One’s fist smashed into Jack’s jaw before he could continue.

Mr. Suit held up a hand silently, making Goon Number One stop before he struck Jack again. “Mr. Dalton, my men can be very persuasive when it comes to getting me what I want. Think of it as being in your best interest to give me what I want.”

“And let you keep killing kids?” Jack scoffed, spitting blood onto the floor and sadly missing Mr. Suit’s expensive, shiny shoes. “Not likely.”

Mr. Suit sighed theatrically. “They were warned what would happen if they didn’t do as they were asked.”

“Then kill _them_!” Jack retorted. “Take over their shit for your own! You don’t kill kids, man! That’s just wrong!”

“Perhaps.” Mr. Suit replied calmly,  thumbs tucked into his belt. “But it gets the message across. And once stories travel to others, they will be a lot less likely to cross me.”

“You’re sick, man.” Jack shook his head. “Sick!”

A fist slammed into his temple, splitting his eyebrow, and then his stomach, below the ropes, once, twice, three times.

“Where is my property?” Mr. Suit demanded when Goon Number Two stepped back.

“Go to Hell!”

Mr. Suit chuckled coldly. “You my friend will arrive there long before I ever will.” He motioned to Goon Number Two. “You stay here and convince him to tell me where my product is.”

“Aww, bored of me already?” Jack yelled mockingly, ignoring the line of blood running down his cheek like a tear from the cut on his brow.

Mr. Suit stopped in the doorway, turning back to look at Jack. “I’ll be back, Mr. Dalton. I’m just going to go see if your friend is more willing to talk to me than you are.”

The smirk fell off of Jack’s face as his blood ran cold. “You’re lying.”

Mr. Suit walked back over to lean down and meet Jack eye to eye. “Look into my eyes and tell yourself I am lying.”

“Who?!”

Mr. Suit straightened, digging his hand into his pocket for something. “Perhaps this will answer your question.”

He dropped four bloody, painted nails into Jack’s lap.

“Riley!” Jack shrieked, looking around wildly. “Sam?!”

Both women had had a ‘girl’s night’ with Mattie the night before, and they had all done their nails in this deep emerald color so they were matching.

“Ahh, so even you don’t know who we have.” Mr. Suit seemed surprised by this. And pleased.

_Please be Cage, please be Cage, please be Cage…_

Cage would be able to withstand the torture these animals would use until the Phoenix could find them and send in a rescue squad. Riley wasn’t a trained agent, she wasn’t trained to withstand torture, be it physical or mental.

“Who do you have?” Jack growled.

Mr. Suit shrugged. “No idea. The bitch won’t tell us her name.” then he smirked as he started to back out of the room. “And I don’t feel like telling you just yet.”

“Get back here! Who do you have?!”

Mr. Suit merely waved over his shoulder at Jack before disappearing out into the hall.

Jack turned his attention to Goon Number Two. “Who do you guys have?” he demanded. “The woman, does she have blonde hair, or black? Please!”

Goon Number Two shrugged, removing his jacket theatrically. “Don’ know.” His accent was even thicker than his boss. “You tell me where is weapon, maybe I tell you.”

Jack shook his head, the faces of the dead children haunting his mind’s eye. “I can’t. I don’t know where it is, and we’re definitely well past when I was supposed to meet up with my team and get out of this city.”

“You lie.”

“I’m not ly – ”

The other man swung his fist into the side of Jack’s head, his right eye, and then rammed his fist into his stomach a couple of times.

 “Where is weapon?”

“I don’t know!”

“Who you work for?”

_Punch_

“I’m not – I’m not telling you.” Jack wheezed, trying to suck some air into his bruised lungs.

_Punch_

_Uppercut_

_Punch_

“Where is weapon?!”

“What part of ‘I’m not telling you’ can you not get through your thick skull, you stupid moron?!” Jack shouted.

That earned him another punch to the jaw, bloodying his lip further. Apparently the man’s English was good enough to understand ‘stupid moron’.

Around and around they went. Good Number Two would demand answers, Jack would refuse, or quip, or make some rude comment, and the goon would punch Jack.

By the time Mr. Suit came back, Jack was pretty sure he had a broken nose, at least three broken ribs, and a possible broken eye socket. Not to mention a black eye which was swollen shut, a loose molar, lacerations inside of his mouth, and bruises everywhere.

Jack spat a mouthful of blood onto the floor. “Heyyyy, looks like you did miss me.” He tried to smirk, but his face hurt too much to do a very big one.

Mr. Suit smirked back. “Well, I must say that I am _very_ surprised. Both you and your very attractive female companion can take quite the abuse and just keep on kicking! Very amusing.”

Jack growled. “Leave her out of this.”

“Both of you stole from me; there is no leaving _anyone_ out of this.” Mr. Suit replied. “However, you can just end it all for both of you if you just tell me who you work for, and where my property is.”

Jack leaned forwards as far as he could, eyes glaring angrily at the man. “Go. To. Hell!”

Mr. Suit sighed. “I told her you would say that.” He stepped forwards and dropped six more bloodied nails into Jack’s lap.

“You son of a bitch!” Jack yanked fruitlessly at the ropes. “When I get out of here, I’m going to kill you! All of you!”

“I highly doubt that.” Mr. Suit motioned for both goons towards the door. “Just remember, as you listen to her screams, that you could have stopped this.”

“What?” demanded Jack. “ _No_! Nonono! Wait! Get back in here! Take me instead! Please!”

The door slammed shut.

Silence.

Shaking with rage, Jack tugged again at the ropes. They had loosened a little during his beating, but nowhere near enough for him slip his hands through, even if he could manage to break his thumb and make his hand smaller – he had done that one time when the bad guys had used cuffs – but the ropes were still too tight.

He could here voices behind him, probably in the room next door to his.

“Riley?!” he screamed. “Cage!”

No answer.

Straining his ears, he could hear only snippets of the conversation – the heavy accents didn’t help matters.

“…tie her there.”

“What if…”

“…water…”

“…break fingers…”

“…Don’t care! Get…”

“Wake her…”

“Ah. There we go.”

The low voices all stopped except for one. Jack strained his ears, trying to hear what was being said by Mr. Suit but couldn’t make anything clear out.

There was no replying female voice.

“Very well, young lady. You leave me no choice. I’m sorry.” Mr. Suit said, not sounding sorry at all.

Splashing water.

Electricity.

And then screaming, high and feminine, through a throat already raw from screaming.

Jack knew that voice.

“ _RILEY!!”_

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings: torture/abuse of a woman (Riley), allusions to non-con drug use and non-con in general.

Riley had never been as afraid as she was at that moment. Not when the wannabe Zodiac Killer had kidnapped her, not when Bedlam74 had her in the trunk of their car. Both times, she had been going to die at the end of a gun with a bullet in her head.

At least those deaths would have been quick – at least in regards to the wannabe Zodiac killer. She hadn’t liked the way the male versions of Bedlam74 had looked at her.

This, however, she could tell was going to be far from painless, judging by the looks the armed me guarding her – like she was going to pull a Mac and find a way to free herself from being tied to the chair – were giving her. She settled for glaring at the men, especially the one who was leering at her (they had removed her denim jacket, leaving her with just her tank top to inspect it for hidden weapons or other devices) so the mild cleavage the top gave her was on full display.

After nearly half an hour by her guess, a man in an expensive suit walked in carrying an air of authority…

….and her busted rig.

“Did you really have to bust up my rig?!” Riley demanded, funneling her fear – terror – into sarcasm.

Jack must be rubbing off on her more than she had realized.

The man tossed her deceased rig onto the floor in front of her, sending it clattering into her boot. “So.” He frowned down at her. “ _You_ are the one who got the others into my vault. How very… interesting.”

Riley leaned back in the chair – well, as much as she could with her arms tied to the rear legs – and smirked. “Yup. That’s me.”

“I am Michaael Hargatavia. I know you and your team stole the virus. I want to know who you work for, and where your team is heading.”

“We work for someone you’ve never heard of before.” Riley replied. “And I don’t know where they’re heading. I was rather busy hacking my way through your sub-par systems and having fun planting my own little surprises.”

Michaael slapped her, hard enough to split her lip. “You’re lying. You know where they’re heading. You will tell me their location, who you work for, and anything else I want to know.”

Riley licked her split lip with a wince. “I’m not telling you a fucking thing.” She sounded braver than she felt.

Michaael smirked. “Once my men have had a… chat… with you, I have a feeling you’ll be far more cooperative than you are right now.”

Riley couldn’t stifle a gulp of fear.

“I think I’ll go and see if your friend is awake.”

“What?!” the question exploded out of Riley’s mouth before she could stop it, though she didn’t regret it as panic clawed its way up her spine.

Michaael paused in the doorway to turn and look back at her, a smug look on his face. “My dear, you didn’t think you were the only one of your team we captured, did you? Perhaps he will be more forthcoming than you.”

He left, slamming the door behind him, leaving one armed guard in the far corner.

_Mac… Jack… God, I thought they got away…_

A loud bang made her jump and turn to look at the wall opposite the door.

She wished she hadn’t.

Creepy Dude had dropped a large, heavy-looking canvas bag onto the metal table pushed against the wall. Out of it he began to pull a hammer, a couple pairs of pliers, a box of matches, a large lighter, a scarily large switchblade, and a couple of screwdrivers.

“So. You going to talk?” Creepy guy asked menacingly, stepping slowly away from the table – thankfully empty-handed – to stand in front of her. “Or do I need to start getting creative.” He kicked her rig out of the way, sending it spinning against the wall, under the table.

“Depends. What do you want to talk about?”

He backhanded her, the other side of her lip splitting thanks to his large ring. “Don not be insolent, woman.” He hissed, his accent thickening with his anger. “Now, tell me. Who do you work for, and where is out virus?”

Riley took a deep breath, and closed her eyes as she sunk deep within herself, bringing to the surface the façade she had worn, she had become, during her two years at the SuperMax. She could deal with the pain and abuse better as Her. She would hold out long enough for the Foundation to bring in the cavalry.

Her eyes snapped open. “I’m not telling you a damn thing.” She glared up at him. “All you need to know is that they’ll come for us, and then they’ll come for you.” She smiled happily. “And then you’ll all be dead.”

This time the backhand stuck her temple, blinding her vision white for more heartbeats than she cared to admit, whipping her head and neck sharply to the side. Not something she hadn’t had happen to her before, but it still hurt.

So did the three punches to her chest and stomach.

“Where is your team?!”

She ignored the blood dripping its way down her cheek and chin. “Dunno.” She wheezed. “They didn’t have time to tell me before you guys starting shooting the place up.”

“You lie.”

“Nope.”

A fist collided with her right eye and temple, almost instantly causing bruises to blossom.

Creepy Dude leaned forwards, gripping the armrests to bring his face close to her, the wood creaking under his weight. “Tell me what I want to know.” He spat. “Where is your team? Where is the virus?!”

Riley was sorely tempted to head-butt the asshole, but her head hurt too much already, and she was sure her head would be struck more before this whole nightmare ended.

So as a compromise, she spat a mouthful of blood at his face. “Screw you.”

He backhanded her again, thankfully with the ringless hand. “‘Screw’ huh?” he sneered. “Fine.”

He stalked back over to the table and picked up a flathead screwdriver and the lighter.

_Shit shit shit shit shitshitshit……_

He lit the lighter and started heating up the tip of the screwdriver. “You like screws, yes?” he asked, his eyes wandering over her body. “Let’s give you a few things to remember them, and me, by.”

_Fuck, no, please, no…_

“‘Please no’” he mocked; she must had said that out loud. “If you want me not to, tell me what I need to know.”

Riley swallowed hard. “I can’t. I won’t!”

“Then you leave me no choice.”

He touched the heated metal to her shoulder.

Riley couldn’t bite back the scream as the pain sent shocks down her arm and into her chest. He only held it against her skin for a few moments, but it felt like minutes. She was gasping when he finally removed it.

“Who are you?”

That was a different question. Riley paused, but knew better than to give her name. They probably had hackers of their own lined up to look up and track down any piece of information she let slip.

_Or Jack, or Mac… please don’t let them have heard me screaming, please don’t let them have heard me._

Lost in her mild panic had brought about silence. The re-heated screwdriver was touched to the opposite lower forearm.

Then he did on her wrist.

Then he touched it to her leg, burning the fabric into her skin.

She screamed again, moving, struggling against the ropes.

“You think this hurts?!” Creep Dude demanded. “It’s going to get much worse. Who do you work for?”

Panting, trying and mostly failing to push through the pain, Riley’s mind spit out the first thing she thought of in Her sarcasticness. “Your mom.”

Not that that retort had ever helped her/Her before, in school or in the SuperMax. It was childish, stupid. It just… slipped out.

He gripped her hair and yanked her head back. “You think I joke about the pain?” he snarled, spit flying from his mouth. “I will put you through Hell over and over again, all without leaving that chair!” He released her and backhanded her yet again.

When her vision cleared, she saw him placing the heated metal against her right exposed breast.

God, it hurt.

He was also holding the lit lighter against her arm.

She screamed, and screamed.

“Artemis77!” she  finally shrieked through the pain. “Artemis77!”

Creepy Dude removed the metal, but the pain remained, feeling like it would never leave, a spiderweb, a net of pain connected each location of pain to tie them all together and putting her entire being into pain.

“What?” he asked. “What are you talking about?”

She gulped in air. “You wanted to know who I am. That’s it.”

He threw his tools onto the table and clattering against the wall, making Riley wince at the noise. “That’s not a name.”

Riley attempted to smirk, but with the blood on her face and obvious swollen lip, and heaving chest, it probably didn’t look very impressive. “No, but it’s who I am.” She nodded her head towards the small camera she probably hadn’t been meant to notice tucked in a crack high up in the opposite wall. “Have your hackers look me up.”

It would keep them busy. And they wouldn’t find anything to tie to her real name, or to Phoenix.

“They will.” Creepy Dude was back at the table. “But that still doesn’t answer the important questions.”

When he turned around, he was holding one of the pliers.

_My teeth, he’s going to pull my teeth. Oh God this is going to hurt. How am I gonna keep quiet through this, until Phoenix comes?!_

He clapped the pliers in front of Riley’s face, causing her to lean back and clench her jaw shut. He laughed and started walking in circles around her and the chair.

“Who do you work for?”

Silence.

“Where is you team exfiling?”

“Don’t know.”

“Where is the virus? Where is your team?!”

Silence.

Pain.

Her finger – her right index – felt like it was on fire, and she was barely able to swallow a scream. For a moment, she was afraid he had broken it.

It took her longer than it should have to realize what he had done.

He dropped something into her lap over her shoulder.

It was one of her nails.

Sarcastic Riley was still at the wheel. “Really, Creepy Dude? I just had those done!”

His only reply was to remove the left pinkie nail.

She cursed the air blue at him.

He removed two more.

She was screaming.

She was breathing heavily through her teeth when Michaael came in, thankfully stopping Creepy Dude from removing a fifth nail.

Michaael tutted. “Jonas, I told you not to damage her hands or her face.” His eyes fell on the burn on her breast. “That’s a pity.” He told her, a corner of his mouth curling. “You have such pretty skin.”

“Go to Hell.” She spat, ignoring the twinge of the wounds on her lips reopening; it was lost in the sea of pain from her fingers, her face, and the burns scattered on her skin.

Michaael merely chuckled as he picked up the four nails Creepy Dude – no, Jonas, though she still kept mentally referring to him as Creepy Dude – had tossed into her lap. “I think I will show these to your friend; he’s finally waking up.”

“What did you do to him?” she demanded. “Who do you have?”

“Some muscled fool. He’s still unconscious, but when he wake up we’ll be sure to give him the same reception as we’re giving you.”

_Muscled. Jack. Oh God… Mac and Sam better get here soon… Please don’t let Phoenix disavow us again…_

_I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up…_

_As long as I can, damn it! I can’t let them get to my friends._

_My family._

A man came in from the hallway to whisper to Michaael, who’s eyes lit up in surprise. “So, you did give us a little nugget of gold, didn’t you, dear?” He leaned close. “Or should I call you Artemis77?”

Creep Jonas Dude seemed shocked. Serves him right. “She was not just making that up?”

Michaael shook his head. “Seems she’s a legend among the dark net and hackers. She could be useful.” He straightened. “Like I said, don’t damage her hands.” He flapped a hand at her. “Try and avoid her face, she is too pretty to waste just as a hacker.”

“Like I’d ever hack for you!” Riley spat, not allowing her mind to even contemplate what Michaael was implying with his ‘just as’.

_Never. Never, ever ever!_

Michael grinned. “That’s what they all say, until I deny them their fix. Then they do whatever I ask them to, even kill their own family.”

_Fix? He’s going to drug me. No, no, no!_

Not yet, it seemed. Which was both a good and bad thing.

“Continue until you get the information we need to get the virus back.”

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving the guard in the corner, which had been switched out for the one who had brought Michaael in the news about her hacker handle.

Creepy Jonas pulled the switchblade out from his pocket. He eyed the blade in contemplation. “Where is your team, where is the virus, and who do you work for?”

Around and around they went. Sarcastic Riley was fading, much to Riley’s horror. The pain was chipping, eating away at her resolve to hold her silence until help arrived.

By the time Michaael arrived back, Creepy Jonas Dude had removed all over her fingernails, nicked her in random, very painful locations all over her body – including the back over neck just below her hairline – and added countless more bruises and burns to the macabre collage on her body.

Michaael was frowning. “It seems that torturing you both separately is not working. I think it’s time we brought the two of you closer together.”

_Thank God, thank God. I can see if Jack is ok. We’ll be easier to find if we’re closer together -_

“Put her in the room adjacent to him.”

So much for checking on Jack.

Michaael left whistling, her remaining nails in his hand. Probably on his way to drop them in Jack’s lap.

Creepy Jonas Dude held a knife to her throat while the guard cut her free of the chair. “Try anything, and I’ll start cutting your fingers off!” he hissed in her ear. “I don’t care what my boss says!”

Riley believed him.

It was longer walk than she had thought. Jack probably hadn’t been hearing her screams.

They had to carry/drag her most of the way, her body too weak in pain to keep her feet underneath her properly enough to walk. It was the silent guard who ‘assisted’ her, and he was surprisingly gentle, trying to avoid her bruised ribs, her burns and cuts as he slung her arm over his shoulder.

The room they entered had a wooden T built against the wall, the vertical piece wide enough to fit even Jack’s body. Leather straps were scattered all over it.

On a rickety table next to it was what looked like a brand-new car battery and old jumper cables; on the floor next to it was a bucket of water.

Blood rushed in Riley’s ears, and she felt faint as she started struggling weakly, but the guard and Creepy Jonas Dude dragged her to the device and strapped her in. The pain made her vision black out and her head drop to her chest, but she could still hear.

“Tie her there.” Creepy Jonas Dude ordered the solider.

The soldier did as he was told. “What if this doesn’t work?” he asked over his shoulder.

Creepy Jonas Dude scoffed. “Once she is drenched in water, electricity scattering all over her until she screams herself bloody, she’ll talk.” He shrugged. “I can always break fingers.”

Nice-ish Soldier paused what he was doing. “Michaael wants her fingers undamaged.”

Creepy Jonas Dude stalked over. “I don’t care! Get her strapped in. I will get this out of her.”

Nice-ish Soldier finished strapping her and stepped back.

“Now we just need to wake her.”

Creepy Jonas Dude stepped up to her and slapped her, causing Riley to gasp.

“Ah. There we go.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Let me know!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: physical torture/abuse, blood, death

Jack was breaking. Breaking into pieces that would never be fully put back together.

He was helpless as he listened to the men shouting the same questions they had plied him with over and over, listening to Riley screaming, her voice becoming rougher the longer the torture went on.

He knew Phoenix would come for them at some point.

They would, right?

But would they come in time. That was the question.

They were running out of time.

He stared down at the ten painted, bloody nails in his lap.

_What else had they done to her? Did they break her fingers had they hit her had they cut her what had they done to her?!_

He could still hear her hoarse screams behind him.

She was refusing to answer the questions she knew, and couldn’t answer the ones she didn’t, and they didn’t believe her.

They weren’t going to stop.

He couldn’t take it any longer.

“Stop!” he shouted, praying someone would hear him. “Stop hurting her! Leave her alone!” tears slipped out of his eyes. “I’ll tell you what you want to know, just leave her alone!”

One of Mr. Suit’s many goons must have been standing guard outside the door and heard his offer. Less than a minute later Mr. Suit came in, wiping blood – _Riley’s blood oh God, no please no –_ off of his knuckles with a crisp, white handkerchief.

“So,” Mr. Suit said slowly, stopping a few feet away. “You’ve finally decided to be smart and talk with us, eh?”

“Stop hurting Riley.” Jack growled, fists clenched. “No more! Bring her in here with me so I can see her. _Then_ I’ll answer any questions you have.”

“You will tell me _everything_ I want to know.” Mr. Suit said threateningly, shaking his finger at Jack. “Or your girl… Riley… will be the one who’ll pay the price for your mistakes.” He motioned to someone outside in the hallway. “Bring her; you know what to do.”

About five minutes later one of Mr. Suit’s many goons joined them, dragging a staggering Riley in, his hand fisted roughly in her hair. Once he got a good look at her, Jack felt his heart break. Riley’s face was bloody, her lips split in at least three places, and her left eye was bruised and swollen. There was small burn marks all over her exposed skin – arms, hands, legs, even her chest – from something flat, probably a screwdriver. Her hands were also bloody from the monsters ripping her nails out, but at least her fingers didn’t appear to be broken. Her navy blue top was damp and there were large burn marks on her chest and stomach – looked like they had taken jumper cables to her.

“Oh God… Rys…”

She heard him, her eyes lifting from the flood to look at him. “Hey Jack,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Fancy seeing you here.” She tried to smile.

“Enough!” Mr. Suit spat. “Here’s your little toy, only partially broken, safe and sound. Now answer my questions!”

Jack saw Riley’s eyes widen in panic. “Jack, don’t –”

The man holding her hair shook her roughly. “Shut up, bitch!”

She ignored him. “ – don’t tell them anything!”

Mr. Suit backhanded her.

“Hey! I said leave her alone!” Jack shouted, yanking at the ropes, sending some of Riley’s nails skittering across the floor. “ _Stop!_ ”

Mr. Suit smirked. “Just wanted to, as you Americans say, ‘drive the point home’.” He tossed the blood-splattered handkerchief onto Jack’s lap. “So, who do you work for?”

Jack took a shaky breath, eyes glued to Riley’s bloody, bruised face. _This is why you’re doing this,_ he told himself, _for **her.**_

“I work for –”

“Jack don’t – !” Riley started to shout, but was cut off when the goon holding her punched her in the stomach before releasing her hair and letting her drop into a heap on the floor, bloody arms wrapped around her chest.

“If you want your questions answered,” Jack growled through gritted teeth as he stared up at Mr. Suit, “the I highly suggest you _leave her alone!_ ”

Mr. Suit said something in Russian to the goon, causing him to laugh. Then he turned his attention back to Jack, waving a hand to say continue. “You were just about to tell me the name of your employer, Mr. Dalton.”

Riley was in too much pain to stop him this time.

“I work… I work for the Phoenix Foundation.” _Sorry, Mac. Sorry, Maddie._ “Formerly called DSX. We’re a black-ops US government agency.”

Mr. Suit didn’t seem surprised. “Good job. You didn’t lie to me.”

“Wait, you knew?!” Jack demanded, incredulous. “What the fuck is this all about then?!”

The goon pulled a gun from his waistband and pointed it at Jack.

Mr. Suit held up his hand. “Don’t be hasty. He’s just mad.” Mr. Suit started to pace in front of Jack. “So, who is in charge of it now, eh? Now that the Chrysalis has been removed?”

Jack lipped his lips. _Sorry, Maddie._ “Matilda Weber.”

That seemed to surprise the man. “Not who I was expecting. Interesting.” He kept up his pacing. “Where was your team meeting up?”

Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. Wait, wait!” Jack shouted when the goon clicked the safety off on his weapon. “As soon as the others noticed we were caught they would have changed the exfil site.”

Mr. Suit leaned down to meet Jack at eye level. “Hmmph. I believe you.” He straightened.

“I still think you should let me shoot him. Just a flesh wound.” The goon muttered.

“Shut up!” Mr. Suit snapped. “He cares too much about his toy to lie.”

“Stop doing that.” Jack muttered angrily.

Mr. Suit raised an eyebrow. “Stop what? Don’t you share your toys?”

Bile rose in the back of Jack’s throat, rage flooded his veins even more. “She’s not a fucking _toy_ , she’s my daughter!”

 _That_ shocked Mr. Suit. “Oh ho, _really?_ ” He glanced down at Riley, who had collapsed on her side just outside the reach of the overhead light’s reach and didn’t seem to be very aware of was what was going on. “Don’t see much of a, ah, how do you say… family resemblance?”

“Adopted.” Jack spat.

Mr. Suit made a ‘huh’ face. “Interesting.” He took up his pacing again. “How did you know about the weapon?”

“Anonymous tip.”

“Where is it?”

Jack tried to shrug. “No idea. Probably on its way back to our headquarters, or some other secure black site.”

Mr. Suit waved a hand at Riley. “Was your hacker toy – excuse me, your hacker ‘daughter’ able to remove or deactivate the tracking device inside the weapon’s shell?”

“Yes.” Jack smirked. “ _Both_ of them.”

Mr. Suit matched his smirk, and Jack’s fell off his face as the man leaned down. “Then that still leaves one for us to track. But I have to say, I’m impressed she found two of them. Her skills would have been put to good use had she been in my organization.”

_Shit. There’s three?!_

Mr. Suit nodded smugly as he straightened, reaching his hand out to the goon for his weapon, which was handed over. “Thank you, Mr. Dalton. You’ve been very helpful.” He aimed the gun at Jack’s chest.

Before Jack could open his mouth and tell Riley he loved her, Mr. Suit redirected the gun to Riley on the floor, and fired.

Once.

Twice.

Her body jerked violently at both impacts, landing her on her back. Blood blossomed through her top and ran down her exposed skin, and more blood started leaking out of her mouth.

“ _RILEY!!!”_

Jack stared, wide-eyed, at his Riley, bleeding out mere feet from him, and he couldn’t reach her. He turned his raging eyes onto Mr. Suit. “Why?!” he demanded, tears choking him and breaking his voice. “ _Why?!_ ”

“Because I could.”

Behind him, Riley coughed weakly. “J-Jack…”

Mr. Suit smirked. “We’ll leave the two of you to say your goodbyes.”

The door hadn’t even swung shut before Jack turned his attention to Riley. “Riley? Rys? Baby, look at me, please.” He sobbed out a gasp. “Please…”

Riley turned to look at him; more blood leaked out of her mouth. “J-Jack…”

“Shh,” Jack murmured, cursing the ropes now more than ever. “Rys, put pressure on them, ok? Put pressure on them, you know any moment Mac and Cage and Maddie and all of Phoenix are going to burst in here and get us outta here.”

Riley laughed chokingly. “T-too late.” She coughed. “Jack, listen to m-me, please.”

“No! No, we’re both getting out of here, you got it?” growled Jack, tears running down his face. _No, nononono Riley no please, please no. Not her never her never God, please…_

“Th-thank you, Jack. For g-getting me outta that SuperMax.” She tried to smile. “I’ve n-never regretted getting o-out of there, never.” She winced, her whole body seizing briefly in pain. “A-all the people we’ve helped, we’ve s-saved… it was worth it.”

Jack shook his head violently. “No, not if I lose you. God, Riley, please, please fight this! You know they’re looking for us, you know they’re coming for us! Please, Rys!”

Riley shook her head minutely. “I c-can’t, Jack.” She whispered, her eyes starting to slide shut.

“Riley! C’mon, wake up!” Jack shouted, panicked. “Riley!”

Her eyes slowly opened back up. “Tell m-my mom that I love her, and that she was always th-the best m-mom in the world, even if I d-didn’t show m-my appreciation of th-that.” She whispered. “T-tell Bozer, and M-Mac, and M-Maddie, a-and Cage… that they w-were such a-awesome f-friends.” She trailed off, her eyes starting to slide shut again.

“Riley, _please_ , Rys please, baby, please. Stay with me, you got that?! Stay with me!” Jack’s whole body was shaking. “Please!”

“A-and Jack…” she forced her eyes open again, coughing as more blood blossomed out of the corner of her mouth. “Th-thank you f-for being you. Y-you were an a-awesome d-dad.” She trailed off. “I l-love you… Jack.”

Her eyes slid shut again.

“Riley?” Jack whispered, chest heaving. “Riley!”

She didn’t respond.

“Riley!”

Her chest stopped rising and falling.

_“Riley! NOOOOO!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me? Please? *hides under rocks*


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: swearing

“Wait, wait!” Mac panted, turning to look behind them. Something wasn’t right.

Sam glanced back at Mac. “What? C’mon, we need to get that out of here!” she motioned to the virus in Mac’s hands.

Mac shook his head, not following as she started to take off towards their car. “No, no. Something’s wrong. They should’ve been out here by now.”

They had both heard gunfire over the comms, but there had been gunfire on their end, too, so it wasn’t _that_ unusual – they _had_ just broken into a building owned and run by the Mafia.

“Mac, let’s go!” Sam shouted as she headed for their vehicle.

As an answer, he handed her the canister. “You take it. Go. I can’t leave them.”

**“Mac, where the Hell do you think you’re going?”** Maddie demanded over the comms from the observation point ten miles away. **“What’s going on?”**

“Jack and Riley aren’t out here at the meetup. I’m not leaving them.”

**“Hold up, cowboy. We’re tracking their comms now since we can’t here anything.”**

There was a brief pause.

**“Alright, listen up. Their comms are together outside the rear outbuilding. We won’t have Sat images for another two hours, and if we need to go in there after them we’ll need backup, and that’ll take longer.”**

Mac chewed on his lip, fighting the temptation to head back the way they had just come and at least do a perimeter search, see what he could see.

As if she had read his mind – and he wasn’t completely convinced she couldn’t – Maddie said firmly, **“Mac and Cage, get your asses back here with that canister. Right now the virus is the priority. We need to get it out of here as soon as possible. Come back here so we can lay out a plan. That’s an order. And Cage, if you need to knock Mac out to get him back here, do it.”**

In the end, Sam didn’t need to knock Mac out, but she did have to physically drag him into the vehicle before she drove away with him glaring at her from the passenger seat.

“Mac, I’m worried about them, too. But they can both handle themselves. You know that, and I know that. So does Maddie, that’s why she’s pulling us out now.”

Mac ran a hand through his hair and sighing; he knew they could. It didn’t stop him from having a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

At the observation point, Matilda Weber was waiting for them, arms crossed and foot tapping. “What the Hell happened?” she demanded as soon as they were both out of the car.

“We got split up.” Mac replied shortly. “And something’s happened.”

“No shit, Sherlock. Something definitely went wrong.” She sighed. “While you guys were driving here I got a call from our inside source confirming that both Jack and Riley were captured. In six hours he’s going to make sure the majority of the guards leave, leaving ten to twenty armed men and five computer techs.”

“six hours?!”

Maddie glared at Mac. “It’s the soonest we will have backup. He’s going to fake a distress call from the docks and send most of their people to respond. There’s a service entrance on the west wide of the fence he’ll have it unlocked for us.”

“Can you trust your source?” Mac asked, unsure.

“I’d better be able to; I trained him.”

The six hours crawled painfully by. All Mac could do was pace, twisting paperclip into random objects and dropping them on the ground. Cage managed slightly better, cleaning her guns, oiling them, and putting them back together. Then she took out her hidden bladed weapons and cleaned and sharpened them, all with measured slowness and extreme focus.

Five hours later, the backup arrived thirty agents all armed to the teeth.

Forty minutes after that Maddie waved them into the tent. “Listen,” she told them firmly. “Once we get in there, head for the basement. My contact said that’s where they’ll most likely beholding Jack and Riley. Find them, and get them out.” She outlined building blueprints which were spread out on the table with her finger. “These are the two entrances which will lead you down to the basement levels.”

Someone stuck their head in the tent. “Watcher post two said a bunch of SUVs full of men are leaving the building.”

“Thank you. Tell everyone we leave in ten.” Maddie replied before turning her attention back to her two agents. “We’re going to be enacting several signal jammers to prevent anyone from calling out, and the landline has already been cut, so comms will be down as well.” She shook her finger at the pair. “ _Stick together_ , got it? Find Jack and Riley and bring them home.”

The drove nine miles and walked the rest, not wanting to alert anyone inside the old building to their presence. As they got closer Mac and Sam heard the static ‘pop’ of the signal jammers going live. They found the side entrance was unlocked, as promised.

Mac and Sam headed for the closest basement entrance, right inside one of the outer doors. Luckily for them, there was only one guard inside, and Cage dealt with him with silent, deadly efficiency.

The staircase led them completely below the ground to two hallways, one going to the left and the other straight. Choosing to split up – and hearing Jack yelling at them about that – they started searching the rooms.

Mac found Jack tied to a wooden chair in the forth room he checked, rope binding his friend around his legs, arms, and chest. Even in the dim light of the single light above him he could see the blood and bruises on Jack’s face and skin. He was sagging against the ropes which bound his chest, his whole body shaking.

“Jack! Jack, we’re here.” Mac ran in, dropping to his knees as he sliced through the musty-smelling rope with his ever-present Swiss Army knife.

It took him a moment to realize that Jack was trying to say something, but was having difficulty because his voice was gone. “Jack, what?” He leaned close. Had they injected him with something?

“Rys… Ry…”

Mac grabbed his friend’s shoulders. “We’ll find her, man. Maddie called in the cavalry. We’ll find her.”

Jack shook his head. “Too… late…”

Mac looked up at his friend as he cut through the last of the rope, positive he had misheard. “What? Jack!” he had to catch Jack when the older man slumped forwards and onto the floor.

“Ry…” he whispered hoarsely, pushing Mac’s hands off of him.

Mac’s brow creased in confusion as Jack crawled towards the shadows of the opposite wall. “Jack, what…” his voice caught in his throat. “N-no…”

He hadn’t noticed when he had first entered the room due to his focus on his friend, and the lack of light.

Riley was laying in a pool of her own blood in the shadows, her eyes closed, dried blood on her face and lips. He could see her hands were void of their nails. Bruises, burns, and cuts littered her exposed skin. He didn’t have to look to see if she was still breathing. Between the amount of blood and Jack’s reaction, he didn’t have to.

“Ri…ley…” Jack rasped as he reached her, voice breaking. “N-no… pl… Ry…”

Mac watched as Jack touched her face, his other hand hovering over her bloody stomach before it moved upwards a few inches and wrapped around her chest, pulling her limp body into his arms, and sobbed, burying his face in her hair.

Mac covered his mouth to keep his sobs quiet as he forced himself to his feet, directing himself to the doorway even though he wanted nothing more to wrap his arms around Jack and Riley, or scream, or _something_ other than stand guard, but his friend needed time to mourn, privately.

He was just grateful Bozer had been needed back at the Foundation and wasn’t here. He knew the two had become good friends, especially after Bozer had gotten over being ‘friend-zoned’.

Inside the room, he could hear Jack’s hoarse, painful scream. It echoed off the walls.

Sam came racing around the corner, drawn by the noise, gun in hand. She skidded to a halt when she saw the tears on his cheeks.

“Riley.” He told her roughly. “They… I think – I think they killed her in front of him.”

Sam’s hand flew to cover her mouth, eyes wide. “Is there any chance she’s…”

Mutely, Mac shook his head.

Swallowing hard, Sam said faintly, “Stay with him. I… I’ll find Maddie and… tell her.”

Mac nodded, watching her go before he took a deep, steadying breath, and went back inside to comfort one friend and mourn another.

OoOoO

Jack wasn’t sure how long he had been screaming after Riley died. Screaming for her to not leave, for Mac and Cage to help, for their – his – captors to put a bullet in him.

But no one came back in.

He didn’t know how long, how many hours it was, before his voice finally was gone.

After that, all he could was sag against the ropes, and sob. Even the eventual, distant sound of gunfire didn’t register until suddenly Mac was kneeling next to him and cutting him free. “Jack! Jack, we’re here.”

“Rys…” he whispered hoarsely. “Ry…”

“Jack, what?” Mac asked, confused.

All he could whisper was, “Rys… Ry…”

Mac paused cutting the ropes to grab his shoulders firmly, trying to get his attention. “We’ll find her, man. Maddie called in the cavalry. We’ll find her.” He returned to cutting the last of the ropes.

Jack shook his head weakly. “Too… late…”

“What? Jack!”

The ropes around his waist gave way, and Mac had to catch him to keep him from falling onto the ground.

He pushed Mac’s supporting hands off of him. “Ry…” he dragged himself over to Riley’s body. Faintly, he heard Mac start to ask what he meant, only to cut himself off and going silent.

“Ri…ley…” He rasped as he reached her, voice breaking. “N-no… pl… Ry…”

He had known she was dead awhile ago. It didn’t stop him from wanting to beg her to wake up, to look at him, to tell him how much he sucked at skeetball, or talk her techno-babble. Hell, he’d take the Riley right out of the SuperMax, all rage and sarcasm and pain.

Anything but the cold, bloody body he pulled into his arms.

All he could do was scream hoarsely, tears dried up a long time ago.

Why hadn’t they shot him instead?

It should be him laying on the floor. Not her.

_Never, ever her_.

He didn’t know how much time passed, how long he had knelt there, but suddenly there was a warm, comforting presence wrapping its arm around his shoulders and pressed against his side, and a hand cupping Riley’s head, it’s head leaning against Jack’s own. The presence was shaking, and something wet was hitting the shoulder closest to the presence.

Mac.

He didn’t say anything, just held them both, and mourned.

A while later Jack felt Mac stiffen next to him.

“Who the fuck is that?” the younger man snarled, jumping to his feet. “He’s dressed like _them._ ”

Instincts of _protect Mac protect Mac_ long engrained made Jack finally look over his shoulder towards the door.

Cage, her eyes glistening with tears and hand over his mouth was standing there with Maddie…

… and the goon who’s gun had killed his Riley.

Jack had set Riley down and was flying at the man before he had even realized he had thought to do it, ready to beat the man to death, claw his skin off, rip his eyes out, because _Riley’s dead Riley’s dead he did this he did this!_

Mac caught him before he got the chance.

“Let me go, Mac! He – he’s the reason Ry is dead!” Jack tried to shout, but it only came out as a harsh whisper.

Mac ignored him, eyes pinning the other man to the wall. “If you’re lying…” he threatened, “I’ll let Jack have his way with you. I’ll help!”

The man held up his hands. “I’m not.” He slowly reached into his front chest pocket and held up a syringe.

“I believe him, Mac.” Maddie said softly. “He’s been deep-cover for years; I trained him myself, remember? He works for us.”

“What are you all fucking talking about?” Jack spat, struggling to get free. “Let me _go_ , Mac!”

“Stop, stop. Jack, listen to me.” Mac edged himself around Jack until he was standing between him and his target. “Listen to me, Jack.” He took a deep breathe. “Riley’s alive.”

Enraged, Jack’s right hook connected solidly with Mac’s jaw. “Does she look fucking alive to you?!” he sobbed, pointing back towards her body. “She’s dead! She’s fucking dead! I fucking _watched_ _her_ _die!_ ”

Mac held a hand to stop Cage and Maddie from getting close. “They didn’t want to waste her talents.” He said calmly, as if he didn’t have blood drawing a line down his chin. “They faked her death, similar as we did to that bookie you wanted to kill.”

Jack blinked. “What?” he turned to look back at Riley. “But the blood…”

“Pig’s blood, faux blood pills, and blanks in the gun.” The guard said quietly, drawing Jack’s attention. “I convinced Michaael to not waste her talents in his vendetta to punish you in his rage. He agreed, after awhile. While he was on the phone, I told Riley I was deep-cover for Maddie, and that she needed to play along to keep you both alive. She agreed. She couldn’t use any code words or tell you because all of the rooms have high-end pin-hole cameras and microphones.”

Jack tripped as he hurried back over to Riley’s body and peeled back her blood-soaked shirt, noticing for the very first time that while it had burn-holes, none of them looked like bullet-holes. There was thin bags taped to her skin, and flat push-pins glued to her skin. String on the far side of her body where he wouldn’t have seen it would have tightened the bags against the pins, and thus the blood.

Jack choked, relief pouring into his veins as Mac knelt down next to him holding the syringe. He peeled back her shirt, aimed for her heart, and shoved the needle in and depressed the plunger.

Fifteen long seconds later Riley’s body jerked and she came awake gasping.

Jack grabbed her before she could fall back and strike her head, his hand coming up to gently cup her face. Her eyes flickered around and she blinked, taking a few heartbeats to bring his face into focus before they flickered with recognition.

“Hey,” she whispered, a weak smile on her lips.

Fresh tears ran down Jack’s face, a split between a sob and a laugh almost choking him as he pulled her into as tight of a hug as he dared. “Hey, yourself.” He whispered. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again, you hear me?”

He felt her weakly wrap her own free arm around his neck. “No promises.” She sniffed. “I’m sorry, Jack. I had to; they would’ve killed you otherwise.”

“It’s ok, it’s ok, Ry.” He murmured, burying his face in her hair and planting a kiss on her cheek. “Everything’s ok now.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There, all fixed! :D
> 
> How did you guys like?

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr, I just restarted: the-doctors-hufflepuff
> 
> Please comment and let me know what you think! Or kudo! :)


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